


Why The Fuck Does Alexander Need To Eat All The Goddamn Pot Roast - A Biography By John Laurens

by Riddleisourking, ThiefOfADHD



Series: The Misadventures of Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens: The Many Reasons Why Alexander Hamilton Is Actually A Toddler [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex dont eat it all, Fluff, GODDAMN IT ALEX, John reads the Princess Bride to Alex so thats cool i guess, M/M, Pot roast, alex no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 08:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11459892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddleisourking/pseuds/Riddleisourking, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThiefOfADHD/pseuds/ThiefOfADHD
Summary: Boyfriends, what are they good for? Apparently eating all the goddamn pot roast. That's what they're good for. Oh, and also being cute and gay, but that's besides the point.Boom. Summary.





	Why The Fuck Does Alexander Need To Eat All The Goddamn Pot Roast - A Biography By John Laurens

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not apologizing

John was lying half off and half on the bed of his boyfriend, Alexander Hamilton and he was staring up at the ceiling of his room. The ceiling was painted black and there were stars here and there. He had painted that for him two years ago.

“Alex, did you know that on Amazon, you can buy a hot chocolate machine? Do you think the hot chocolate tastes better than microwave hot chocolate?” He asked thoughtfully.

“It might, John. Why do you ask? Did you want to buy a hot chocolate machine? ‘Cause it seems fairly easy to get.” Alexander turned to look at him, a small smile on his face. “Do you wanna move so that you can lay down fully on the bed? I don’t want you to accidentally fall off and die on my stack of books.”

“ _Alex_ ,” He groaned as he twisted his body and threw his legs in the redhead’s lap. “This is a serious issue and I'm a man of simple tastes. So, now, I could transfer money into my checking account to get this damn machine but-” He sighed heavily and threw his arms out to his sides. “Is it worth it? Is it really?”

“Oh, my God.” Alex pulled John further onto the bed, saving him from inevitably falling off. What a hero. “Get the hot chocolate machine, okay? I’ll pay you back for it, ‘cause trust me, if I’m not using it multiple times a day then who would.” He gently patted his cheek and John scrunched his nose up at him. “Now, how much is it?” He asked, shifting to lay down by him.

He pressed his thumb to the scanner built into his phone and showed him the picture of the hot chocolate machine, “Seventy dollars and that doesn't cover taxes. You don't have to pay me back for it, Alex. I'll be using it just as often as you.” He rolled over onto his stomach and sighed as his gaze wandered to Alex. “In this household, we don't fuck around about our hot chocolate.”

Alex nodded, looking at him gently. “Alright.” He turned away from him, looking up at the ceiling quietly. “Hey, have you ever thought about painting glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling? I mean, it’d look pretty cool.” He folded his hands over his stomach.

“Well, is that you trying to proposition me into painting your room again, hot shot?” He asked as he raised a brow at him playfully.

“It could be.” He turned to look at him again, violet-eyes practically sparkling. “I’ll even make the first batch of hot chocolate for you if you do it.” His voice dipped into a soft whisper, something that he wasn’t known to do and John's heart raced in his chest as he audibly swallowed. “How’s that for a deal?”

“Well, like a wise man once said, ‘In this household, we don't fuck around about our hot chocolate’.” He intoned as he rolled off of the bed and looked around the room with a frown. Everything would need to be covered with a tarp unless they just moved all of the furniture out and what a lot of work that would be between two men. “Do we have a tarp?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” Alex sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He hadn’t even been sleeping. Why doesn’t he sleep? “Who knows, maybe Herc or Laf might have some. Aren’t they painting their living room or something together? We can borrow their things.” He got up, walking out of the room and John's eyes drifted down his backside and straight to his ass. _Damn, what a flat ass. Lemme smash._

“U-Uh, yeah. If you count them fucking on the staircase as them painting, I mean with cum and all- You know what? No, I don't want to think about that.” He decided as he finally followed after Alex.

“John, you need to clean your turtle’s pen out!” Alex called loudly, turning around before looking at John with wide-eyes. This was quickly cut off, however, by a rather loud growling noise.

John was decidedly not impressed by Alex's inability to take care of himself, “Alexander Hamilton, when was the last time you ate?” He dredged up his best mom voice and narrowed his eyes on him. Even if he did have a cute flat ass, it didn't excuse him.

“It was Wednesday, it was I think 4 am, and it was an entire box of twinkies and-” Alex was quiet. “Maybe your cereal but that’s enough about that.”

It took 2.9 seconds for John to process this and he blinked slowly as equations ran through his head, “You ate an entire, unopened box of twinkies and my cereal.” He repeated dumbly. “I made pot roast last night, what the fuck?”

“When _the hell_ did you make pot roast?” Alex raised an eyebrow. “I would’ve smelled it if you made pot roast. Why wasn’t I aware of this making of pot roast? You know I love pot roast, why didn’t you tell me _there was pot roast_?”

An exasperated sigh left him and he ran his fingers through his hair, “You were asleep and I didn't want to wake you, asshole. There's still a big pot in the fridge, just heat it up and there you go.”

The speed in which Alex pushed past John to the kitchen was something out of a Flash comic book and John followed in quick pursuit but by the time he got there, Alex had a giant-ass motherfucking ladle, sitting with his flat ass on the ground as he ate.

John watched on in horror as his pot roast was slowly devoured viciously, “Alex, you're going to get a stomach ache at this rate and then you're going to puke up all the pot roast.” He chided.

Alex rolled his eyes, eating more. “Yeah, mhm, and Thomas Jefferson is a good politician, and we both know that’s not true.” He poured sauce all over himself in an attempt to eat from the ladle. “Fuck.” He mumbled.

At this point, it is crucial to know that John Laurens is a good person and loyal friend in all regards but he just could not throw away his shot. So, he did the only obvious thing to do in this situation; he took his phone out and started to film.

Alex dropped the ladle into the pot once it was all emptied, trying to lick all the sauce off his face without attempting to wipe it away with his hands first. By this time, the sauce had gotten in his hair, which hadn’t been washed in at least a week, and his shirt was soaked in sauce as well.

“Damn, I guess we should invest in some bibs too.” He mused as he shut the camera off and sent it to the group chat.

Alex pouted. “What do you mean bibs? Why would I need bibs- wait what are you doing on your phone?”

John's phone went off after a minute and he smirked as he opened the group chat.

 

**_Best of Wives & Best of Women:_ ** _OMG, is that Alex???_

**_Tailoring Spy:_ ** _ Holy shit is he eating out of a ladle?? What is he, five?? Laf, do you see this?! _

**_Fish and Chips_ ** :  _ Ah, the true meaning of being an American, yes? _

__  
  


He closed the group chat with a hum and chuckled softly as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket and threw Alex a balled up napkin, “Clean your face off.”

“Awe.” He wiped his face off, looking at John as he moved to hold his stomach. Just as John predicted, he’s a psychic. 

He raised an unimpressed brow at Alex and chuckled, “Aren't we just a couple of responsible adults?” He teased.

“My stomach hurts.” He pushed the pot away, whining. “Help?” He slowly pushed himself up, leaning against the counter instead.

“I don't know, maybe you'll learn your lesson if you're left to…  _ stew _ over your life choices.” He mused.

Alex groaned very loudly. “John, I don’t think your puns are helping in this situation.”

“Damn, are you trying to get  _ beef _ with me?” He smirked.

“John, stop, please.” He looked at him.

“Stop what? You blew this metaphorical  _ pot _ over.” He kicked the garbage can over to Alex just in case. There was no way that he would ever agree to cleaning up the man's vomit. That poor garbage can, that’s all that can be said with what happened within that next five seconds.

After there was a long pause in Alex puking, John hesitantly glanced over at him, “So, I'll call your boss and tell him you're sick?” He offered meekly.

“ _ Please _ .” He begged, being careful of the garbage can as he slowly shifted himself onto the floor to sit.

“Okay, I will. You wanna go up to your room and lay down with the trash can?” He didn't really know what else to say besides that, he wasn't that good with sick people

Alex nodded, dragging the trash can to his room quietly. 

* * *

“So, what have we learned from eating a whole thing of pot roast?” John asked as he braided Alex's hair for him carefully. This was his single most favorite part of Alex being sick; he didn't complain about his hair being touched.

“Don’t eat it so quickly.” He mumbled, moving his head into John’s hands as he let out a small sigh.

“Good, as long as you learned your lesson. Now, tonight, I'm making homemade chicken nuggets, peas, and fries. Sound good?” He asked as he wrapped an elastic band around the bottom of the braid.

“Mhm.” Alex turned to look at him. “Can you tell me a story? I wanna nap before dinner.”

“A story?” He hummed as he thought about any and all stories that he could think of before finally settling on one. “How about I tell you about a pirate and the girl who he never stopped loving?”

He nodded, moving to lay down. “Mind laying down with me while you tell it to me?” He looked into his eyes, giving him a small smile.

John slowly laid down and pursed his lips as his back popped, “Okay, I guess we can start with when he was a stable boy first.” He mused.

  
“Did you memorize the Princess Bride, or are you about to pull the book out from somewhere hidden?” He snarked, scooting closer to John.

A smirk graced his lips and he tugged at one side of his bangs, “Well, you'd find out faster if you'd let me start.” He rolled over and after blindly reaching into his bookcase, he pulled out the Princess Bride and started to read.

_  
All was well. _

**Author's Note:**

> This was written at 6am lmao


End file.
